A New Family
by UisceOneLove
Summary: There's a lot Mickey said he wouldn't admit. So when Ian left for the Army, he didn't do anything to stop him. Just figured they would move on or start up again. But when a sudden change occurs, Mickey is stuck with the Gallagher's, learning to deal with a new lifestyle, and possibly his own feelings. Multi-Chap.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first attempt at writing about Ian and Mickey, so please forgive me if I didn't do too well. I'm trying my best to get their personalities just right. Please read and review, I hope at least one of you enjoys this.**

Mickey didn't do feelings. He sure as hell didn't like showing them, even when he did if they were anything besides anger and lust. But then in came Ian fucking Gallagher with his stupid shit eating grin and actually giving a fuck about Mickey when he shouldn't.

Mickey remembers exactly when he realized he might actually feel something for Firecrotch.

It was their sixth time hooking up- yes, Mickey kept count, though he would never willingly admit it- and he was waiting out back of the Kash and Grab.

Ian opened the door after locking up the front, that grin on his face like always. Mickey couldn't help but stare for a moment before scowling; having noticed in the back of his mind that Ian's grin looked good. That it had given him some weird feeling in his stomach, one he hadn't felt before and didn't want to feel again.

"Are you just gonna stand there all day, or we gonna fuck?"

Gallagher's grin turned into a smirk as he moved out of the way, letting Mickey walk inside.

The cooler felt good as he walked into it, immediately he began to remove his sweater, ready to peel off the tank when Ian spoke up.

"Why'd you get the tattoos on your fingers?"

Mickey stopped and stared at him, then at the letters that spelt out "FUCK U-UP" on his own hands. Normally, he'd just punch the guy in the face for asking such a stupid question. Mickey fucking hated stupid questions. And he hated when people tried to get personal. His life was nobody's business. He came here to fuck, not have Gallagher ask about his ink.

But surprisingly, Mickey didn't pull his sweater back on and leave. He didn't throw a punch at the red head. He told himself he didn't because he still wanted to fuck. That it was all that kept him standing there in front of Ian. Except a part of him knew there was a different reason. One he would never actually admit to.

This was why he found himself responding to the question, much to his own surprise.

"Felt it was appropriate." He said with a scowl. The taller boy was about to open his mouth again, but Mickey quickly cut him off. "This isn't some bonding moment, Gallagher. I came here to fuck. So, we either do that, or I go."

Ian closed his mouth and nodded, the grin returning. And it was all because Mickey answered a question. No way was that happening again.

Yet again, Mickey heard something in the back of his mind say that it no doubt would happen again. In response, Mickey told the voice to shut the fuck up, and then worked on getting his and Firecrotch's clothes off.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you so much Minipou, blondiegoldeneyes, and MintSauce for the encouragement, it means a lot. So here is the next chapter, I might be uploading the next several pretty quickly, I only need to type them up. So, please, enjoy and review.**

No fucking way would Mickey admit what he feels deep down. He'll never tell Gallagher how he's spent little moments looking over him, memorizing the freckles on his face, or how soft his hair feels at the touch, or even how Mickey loves when he's wearing that shit eating grin. All the faggy things Mickey hated to notice, yet he didn't _want_ to stop noticing.

And the the feeling kept getting stronger. As they got together more frequently, Mickey began to feel possessive, that Ian was only _his._ Maybe he was Ian's too. But he'd never ask and sure as fuck wouldn't say it. He's been shot in the leg _and _ass, both times over that grinning ginger. And if anyone ever tried to hurt Gallagher, Mickey was sure as hell never going to let them live.

So by the time Ian was called to duty, Mickey knew what he felt. Just like he knew Ian could get shot or blown up fighting in whatever –stan they ship him off to. If he gets his ass killed, Mickey didn't know what he'd do. This guy's taken a part of him that he can't get back. And even if he could, Mickey didn't want it back. Fucking Gallagher made a Milkovich feel something that wasn't hate.

As they lied together in Ian's bed—one of the rare things that had begun to be more frequent—Mickey kept thinking it over, a hand tracing the tattoos on his right hand.

"You're thinking again."

"Fuck off." Mickey shoved at Ian's shoulder, making the taller boy laugh and shift so he's propped up on his side.

"Seriously, I'm surprised you haven't chewed your lip off." He remarked, smiling.

Mickey glared and dug out the carton of cigarettes from his jeans that were left on the floor, taking one out and offering the red head one before lighting up.

"Mick—"

"Don't, Firecrotch."

Ian blinked in surprise and sat up, taking a drag from his own cigarette. "Don't what?"

"Don't say what we both fucking know you were going to."

Ian's head moved in a slight nod. There was a moment of silence between them, then just as Mickey opened his mouth, the door burst open and Lip barged into the room.

"Fuck, Lip!" Ian, shouted, grabbing the pillow and throwing it at his brother.

"Jesus, Gallagher, heard of knocking?" Mickey glared, quickly grabbing his boxers.

"Well, considering it's my room, I don't find knocking to be something I need to do." Lip smirked, leaning against the bunk bed.

Mickey put out the cigarette and pulled on his boxers, then reached for his jeans. He was this close to using the window to wipe that smirk off Lip's face. This wasn't something he needed to fucking deal with, tonight of all nights. Ian gave Lip a glare, something else expressed in the look, which Lip responded to with a nod.

"You know what? I think Mandy said she needed me. I'll just come back later when the room doesn't stink of sex." Lip said, backing out of the room and closing the door.

"Mick, you don't have to go. Lip was being an ass like always, just stay a little longer." Ian looked at him as Mickey stood and finished pulling on his clothes.

"You heard Lip, my sister's here, Firecrotch."

"She won't know you're here. We can stay up here while Lip keeps her company downstairs."

Mickey rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb, then went to the door. "I'm sneaking out the back, Gallagher. You can stay here, or come with me."

They both knew the answer to that without Ian answering.


	3. Chapter 3

They walked in silence, Mickey dragging on his cigarette with Ian by his side watching. Ian knew Mickey was building up to say something, with the way he'd stick his tongue out the corner of his mouth. So he kept quiet, waiting for the ex-con to speak.

Mickey remained silent and walked until they reached the baseball field, several memories of the two of them running through his head, like when he pissed on first base in Little League and the times he and Ian came here to fuck. He walked to the dugout, then stopped and leant against the chain-link. How the fuck was he supposed to get anything he wanted to say out? This is why he hated to feel, why he should've kept Gallagher at a further distance. Mickey Milkovich was actually nervous.

Ian stayed by his side. He started to wonder if Mickey would even speak. This was their last night before Ian had to leave, and now it's being spent in silence. He knew Mickey didn't do words, but at the least he could do something. The sex was a goodbye, which that much was a no brainer. But would Mickey even miss him?

Finally, Mickey flicked the cigarette to the ground and smushed it with his foot. Then he spoke, eyes looking everywhere but Ian.

"If you get shot, I'll kill you myself."

Ian stared at Mickey. There it was. In that threat, Milkovich had said "I'll miss you" and "Stay alive for me." The taller boy grinned.

"I think I'll live, Mick."

"If you don't, I'll—" Ian cut him off by grabbing the back of his neck and bringing their lips together. The kiss was rough, but held its own sweetness at the same time. At first, Mickey didn't respond to the kiss, and Ian thought that he was just going to push him away or punch him in the face. But then Mickey kissed back, letting emotions he couldn't show seep through. Mickey's hands went to Ian's short hair while the other boy wrapped his hands around the ex-con's hips and pulled him closer.

When they pulled back, neither boy moved their bodies apart, merely ended the contact of their lips. Ian rested his forehead against Mickey's, whose eyes were shut tight, fists clenching the red head's shirt.

"Kiss me again, and I'll cut your fucking tongue out…" Mickey whispered, breathless.

Ian chuckled in response and kissed him again, both knowing the threat was empty.

The kiss was still rough, Mickey biting down on Ian's bottom lip and releasing a moan from him. Ian pressed against him as close as possible and rubbed their crotches together. Both dug their fingers into each other, trying to leave new marks as proof that one belonged to the other. Ian shoved his tongue into Mickey's mouth, moaning as the ex-con sucked on it.

Mickey's fingers moved to the red head's belt in a hurry, tugging and pulling at it so harshly it seemed the belt should have broken, but instead was unbuckled, yanked out of the loops and thrown aside with a clanging sound as it hit the ground. He pulled back from the kiss only to move his mouth to Ian's neck, sucking and biting on the skin, making the taller boy shiver and let loose a low groan.

Ian quickly worked on Mickey's jeans, turning him around roughly and pushing down his pants, the boxers along with them. He then pushed his own down, then pressed against the other boy, feeling his hips push back to meet Ian's and feel something push inside him. Ian traced the scar on the back of Mickey's shoulder that he had made before.

Without hesitation, he bit down and re-opened the scar, making Mickey's head fall forward as he let out a deeply low moan.

"Fuck, Gallagher…" Mickey tried to push his hips back again, growling for Ian to finally be inside him.

The red head's hands held on tightly still to the ex-con's hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave tiny crescent marks, a new set of bruises already beginning to form. Ian then used one of his hands to guide himself to Mickey's puckered entrance and pushed himself inside, groaning, while the ex-con arched with a sound escaping from his lips that Ian had never heard him make before. The feeling of Mickey tightening around his dick was something he could he could never describe, just like Mickey couldn't explain how it made him feel full and complete, as gay as it sounded.

Mickey gripped the edge of the dugout beneath his hands, trying to fight against Ian's hands and move his hips back, but Firecrotch's grip was unbreakable. Ian began to thrust into Mickey, then gradually thrusting turned into slamming their hips together, both falling into the rough familiarity of their fucking. Mickey didn't care for slow and gentle most of the time, even if Ian wanted it. He loved getting new bruises and bite marks, making him belong to Ian. He'd never admit to something faggy like that, but it was true. Just like how Ian will always be his.

Both boys continued to slam their hips together, making Mickey moan loudly, the way Ian loved to hear it. Ian's face stayed buried in his neck, sucking against the skin as his own moans came out. When Ian could feel himself getting close, he let go of Mickey's hips, reaching a hand around and wrapping it tightly around the boy's dick, stroking the shaft with equal speed and roughness as the thrusts.

The ex-con let out a choked moan, tensing as he came, echoing through the dugout. Ian used it as an advantage, grabbing his chin and forcing their lips to meet, crushing into each other. Mickey gave in and kissed back, biting down on his bottom lip hard enough to split the skin and draw blood. A few more thrusts and Ian fell over the edge, hit by the force of his orgasm. The boys stayed hunched over, breathing hard and still pressed against each other.

Mickey looked at Ian in one of the rare moments when is walls seemed to be completely gone. There was a real smile on his face, though small, and Ian could swear that the look in his eyes was actually one of affection, and maybe even…Love. But Ian knew that look would disappear soon enough and that it would never be spoken of.

Ian pulled out of Mickey, smiling himself, and fixed his jeans before walking over to where his belt landed and putting it back on. He watched as Mickey zipped up his own jeans, eyes wandering before resting on the red head.

"Don't let it go to your head, but I'm gonna fucking miss you, Firecrotch."


	4. Chapter 4

Mickey didn't go to see Ian's departure. That'd be to stupid and cheesy and faggy to do, which meant no chance he would do it. And there was no fucking way he was going to write letters, either.

Yet he lied there in bed, flat on his stomach, thinking about that tall boy with red hair and freckles that seemed to fade away more and more as he grew older. As if the muscles were replacing them. Sure, he could threaten all he wanted, and deny everything, but what he'd refuse to show in the recent times was that he's scared. Mickey Milkovich is actually afraid of something other than his father. And that fear is of Ian Gallagher coming back home in a box.

There were nights when Mickey just stared at the ceiling, afraid to go to sleep and have another nightmare of seeing Ian in the desert, stepping on an unseen mine and blowing up, or getting shot to death. And then there was the fear of Terry, Mickey's father, finding out about him and Ian. That his father would kill them both. Mickey could be okay with dying. He was a Milkovich, so it'd happen eventually. But he wasn't going to let _anyone_ fuck up his Gallagher.

It was while he pondered this that his bedroom door swung open.

Mickey was used to it. The only bathroom in the house was connected to his room, Mandy, Terry, and his brothers would always walk in without a courtesy knock. So Mickey didn't think much of it until he realized that whoever came in hadn't moved or used the bathroom at all. He rolled onto his back and sat up to see his father staring with wide eyes.

"What?" Mickey furrowed his brows, trying to understand what he did now for Terry to look at him like that. He noticed that the older Milkovich was focused on his hips. That's when he realized that his boxers were riding low enough on his hips that they revealed the deep bruises that were in the shape of fingers. He looked back up at his father with wide eyes, the fear easily seen on his face.

"Shit, dad, wait-!" He began, only to be cut off when Terry lunged at him and landed on top of Mickey, punching him in the jaw. Mickey felt the burst of pain, but for Milkovich's pain was good, it made you stronger.

Mickey managed to knee his father in the stomach, feeling Terry's weight lifting as he momentarily pulled back. The boy took advantage and rolled out from under him, falling to the ground. Before he had a chance to get up or even crawl away, Terry was on was back on top of him, knotting a hand into his hair and slamming his head into the floor. Mickey's vision started to blur, his head throbbing as the older man forced him onto his back, hands wrapping around his neck and squeezing, cutting off the air supply. Mickey's hands flew in an n attempt to hit him, an attempt to make the grip loosen so that he could gulp as much air as possible. He had managed to connect his fist with Terry's nose, hearing a satisfying crunch to confirm it was broken. But then his vision started to darken.

So this was how Mickey Milkovich would go. Strangled by his father over liking dick. No, not just anyone's dick, but Ian's.

He's going to die over being in love with Ian Clayton Gallagher. Mickey was okay with admitting it to himself now. If he was going to die, then he's going to be honest instead of remaining buried. Ever since that moment in the cooler of Kash and Grab, he knew. He knew both times he got shot for the red head, he knew when he let his fear tell Ian he was nothing but a warm mouth. And he knew that he was in love with Ian the moment he let his jealousy make him run back to that van and kiss Ian.

Fucking Firecrotch got him to feel more than hate and lust and anger. Mickey figured that he should be pissed about it still, but at this moment he can't. No, he wouldn't. All he can do is think about how Gallagher will come back from the Army to find that Mickey is dead. As long as his father never finds out who gave him these bruises, he supposed that this could count as dying happy.

As Mickey closed he eyes, he let a smile form on his face as a goodbye Ian will never see. But he knows the red head will figure out what happened.

"Sorry Firecrotch…" He whispered.

And just as he was ready to let go, Mickey heard a bang, the undeniable sound of a gun. Then suddenly, there weren't hands at his neck, the body on top of him gone.


	5. Chapter 5

"Mickey!"

He didn't want to open his eyes. He thought that Terry decided to shoot him and fired off a practice round. But that wasn't a man's voice. His father hadn't spoken. Then he heard someone drop the gun and rushing over to him, kneeling at his side.

"Mickey? Can you hear me? Mickey!" The voice was full of panic, like they think they may have been too late to save him. Who would fucking want to save him? There were only two people on that were on the list that he knew of, which made him open his eyes as he gasped for the air he didn't have before.

"Fuck, Mickey, are you all right?" Mandy's eyes searched his face while her hands moved carefully to help sit her brother up. Mickey brushed her hands off, sitting himself up and coughing.

"Considering I was about to have my lights put out, I'm fucking peachy, Mandy." Mickey sneered, searching the room with his eyes, finally resting them on the form that lay on the ground lifeless as blood surrounded it. He stared at the face of his father, a face that still showed the angry shock he must have had seeing Mandy with the gun pointed at him. They finally got rid of the fucker. Only took him almost succeeding in killing Mickey for it to happen, but now it's like a weight is gone. The man who got Mandy pregnant in a drunken blackout and blamed Ian, the man who beat them all mercilessly and said it would toughen them all out. The man that had been in the way of Mickey admitting to himself before that he was gay and wanted Ian. Gone, and Mickey doesn't have Gallagher to celebrate with a beer and a fuck.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell Mandy was staring at him, trying to put the pieces together, but he could tell she was just as grateful to never have to deal with his sorry ass again.

"What the fuck did you do for him to try and kill you, Mick?"

"Got fucked up the ass." Mickey said after a moment of silence, looking his sister in the eye. He watched her face change from confusion, to humored, to finally being solemn and full of a sad understanding. Mandy nodded slightly, like she was making the confirmation of everything to herself.

"Do I even need to ask who it was?" she asked, a sad smile forming.

"I'm sure you have enough smarts to figure it out, Mandy."

Mandy nodded again. "How long?"

Mickey rubbed his bottom lip. "We first fucked the day after he tore my room up looking for that damn gun."

"So we were both dating him at the same time."

"Get one thing straight, I was not dating Gallagher." Mickey scowled, making Mandy roll her eyes.

"Explains why he put up with your grumpy ass." She remarked.

"Ha. Funny."

"I certainly thought so."

Mickey had always been afraid Mandy would freak, that she would hate him for being gay, especially with Ian since she was pretending to see him up until she and Lip became a real couple. But all she did was nod and smile and sit next to her older brother, resting her head on his shoulder.

The Milkovich siblings sat there like that in silence for a while, staring at Terry's body. Mandy was the one to break the silence.

"We need to call the police and get this shithead picked up." She stood, helping her brother up afterwards. He stared at her like she suggested they go around hugging people.

"Are you fucking stupid? Do you not see all the illegal shit that's here?" Mickey stepped over their father and sat down on the bed, grabbing his pack of cigarettes and lighting one up.

"All of it's his anyway. It won't mean anything for us."

Mickey laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, sure it won't. Not like we all got records or live here or anything. Totally not like our Pops is nothin' but a corpse with a bullet between the eyes lying on my floor. You're so right; we aren't going to get in trouble for fuck all."

Mandy sat next to him and punched him in the arm, making him twitch to keep from crying out or wincing. "I'm serious. It was self-defense. The proof is on your face and your neck. They'll come in, take our stories like always and then leave with his body." She took the cigarette from him and dragged. "Besides, I know where we can live."

The ex-con stared at his sister, confused at what she was talking about. Then, he remembered where she's been practically living for the past year and a half. He stood, shaking his head.

"No, no, no, and no. I am not going to play house with you and Lip. I'm not going over there to play nice and fucking ask the Gallagher's for a place to stay."

"Mick—"

"No, Mandy, I'm not going to. You can go on with your fucking fantasy all you want, but there's no fucking way I'm joining."

Mandy stood up, punching her brother again. "I'm calling the police for once in our lives. And I don't care if I have to drag your ass over there; you're coming with me to the Gallagher's."

Before Mickey could even tell her to fuck off, she walked out. Two minutes later, he heard Mandy on the phone. He took the opportunity to pack up the only clothes he had and few items he gave a shit about, like a coin Ian didn't know he kept after the time they been under the high school bleachers. Or a shirt Ian had left once when he had been over. Mickey hid it at the back of his drawer. After that, he went to the kitchen and packed up the rest of his cherry flavored Jell-O, and his last two Snickers bars.

Five minutes later, he heard the sirens.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: So normally I would wait until tomorrow to post the next chapter, but after seeing tonight's episode of Shameless, I feel that everyone needs something to get their minds off of what happened with Ian and Mickey. So please, enjoy, and thank you for all the reviews and followings. It means a lot to me.**

Mickey never expected, or even wanted, to be sitting on the Gallagher's couch. The younger sister— Debbie?—was watching him closely, her eyes the same as Ian's. The little sociopath, Carl, was in the kitchen melting plastic army men with the microwave. Mickey planned on staying far away from him. Mandy had taken a place standing with Lip, who was staring at Mickey knowingly, but also with what he could only think of as relief. Relief that he was alive and that Ian was safe from one danger that was in his life.

Then there was the oldest sister, Fiona. Everyone knew she was the one really taking care of her siblings while Frank was off wherever passed out on the sidewalk or drinking even more at The Alibi. She was holding the youngest of all of them, Liam. He didn't understand how Liam was related to any of 'em.

But at the moment he was focused on the fact her attention was all on him. They had all listened as he and Mandy retold them what happened, all of them able to see the marks forming on his neck. And they could all put together why his sister would bring him here of all places.

The ex-con sat there, tongue sticking out the side of his mouth, focusing on his tattoos so that he didn't have to see the looks he knew would only anger him.

"Look, that bastard had it coming, Mickey." Fiona's eyes were filled with sympathy, like she understood. No one but another Milkovich could possibly understand. But then again, the Gallagher's had their own shitty parents and their own problems, so maybe he couldn't judge. He also saw that she was also thankful that he was all right, but there was hesitance along with it.

"You don't think I know that? I'm just fucking glad I get to keep on breathin'" Mickey hated the pity and sympathy he could see in their faces. It made him feel weak. In the back of his mind though, a part of him liked it. A part WAY back in his mind.

Lip and Fiona shared a look, like they could understand what the other was thinking. Mickey shifted on the couch, unsure what he'd even do if he couldn't stay. He didn't exactly have options. But he still wanted to get the fuck away from these people. He told Mandy he wanted to stay in their shitty excuse for a house, but she wasn't letting that happen.

Truthfully though, he didn't want to step foot in that house again. It'd been a second prison to him. So many times he tried to get out. If anything, Juvie was a better home. It'd been a way better option when Frank had caught him and Ian fucking in the Kash and Grab.

Again, there wasn't a chance he'd admit any of this. Just like he wouldn't admit how much he really needed them to make him stay. The fucking Gallagher's who took care of each other, who gave a shit about each other's well-being. Out loud, Mickey would say it's stupid. It's kill or be killed, every man for himself. Except they reminded him of how he and Mandy take care of each other.

Sure, they insulted each other and she'd pull him in a headlock or punch him while he'll twist her nipples. But that's their way of signifying they love each other. He beats the shit out of anyone who hurts her; she gets him work and defends his name. They made food for each other. They were their own individual family.

Admitting to himself his love for Ian had been like shutting off part of his self-preservation. Like he can't help but want to know what a real family, Ian's family, is like. It was a pull to know everything he didn't already know about the red head.

That doesn't mean he plans to start acting all faggy and nice, though. Fuck that.

"You're going to stay with us." Fiona's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Mickey smirked.

"You've got to be fucking kidding. Thanks for the offer, but I'm good." He replied. Fiona gave the ex-con a look that made the smirk disappear. Shit, she can be scary.

"You're going to live here, just like Mandy has been. Of course, it means you help pay rent and the groceries. And as a rule, there is no hitting of anyone in this household, especially Lip. And you will also be helping out with watching over Liam." She continued.

Mickey groaned to hide his relief. "Fuck, fine. So where the fuck am I supposed to sleep?"

"Oh, some place nice. You'll remember it, its Ian's bed." Lip smirked.

"You're a fucking riot, Lip." Mickey glared at him. Fiona gave Lip a look as well, while Debbie made a face and Mandy rolled her eyes.

"What? I was kidding. Partially." Lip shrugged. Mandy snickered, but still elbowed him in the stomach. Mickey had to smirk to keep from smiling.

"Whatever. I'll stay, happy?" Mickey asked while standing up.

"Dinner is in an hour. You can take your things up to the room and clean up. Debbie, finish your project. Carl, stop melting things in the microwave!" Everyone scattered to take care of their own business, leaving Mickey alone with his thoughts in the living room. Lip and Mandy went upstairs, unsurprising to Mickey while Fiona hurried into the kitchen with Liam to take care of Carl.

At first, Mickey just stood there, clueless as to what he should do next. He walked around the living room while listening to Fiona yelling at Carl, then sat back down on the couch and tried watching TV. After several minutes of flipping through the available channels, he got up, grabbed his bag, and went upstairs.

It was no surprise whatsoever that the first thing he heard was Lip and Mandy. His sister's always been loud, but he didn't realize that this Gallagher was just as loud. He stifled a groan and walked right on by the closed door, then stopping when he was in the doorway of Ian's room. Well, Ian's, Carl's, and Liam's room.

Mickey felt something inside his chest ache as he sat down on the bed. He could easily picture Ian lying there asleep, like the few times before when he'd been there. Ian would snore so quietly that you'd think you were imagining it, his mouth parted and chest rising and falling with ease.

The ex-con lied back, glaring at the ceiling. Was this what was going to happen from now on? Is he really going to think about every little thing he noticed about Gallagher all because he let himself think the truth?

**No. Fucking. Way.**


	7. Chapter 7

When he woke up the next morning, it was due to Fiona barging into the room and shouting.

"Everybody up, school today! Carl, take a shower, and no launching yourself down the laundry chute again! Lip, don't make me use the Gallagher tickle spot again! Mandy—put some clothes on!" Fiona grabbed all the dirty clothes from the ground before reaching out with her free hand and shaking Mickey.

"Fuck off…" Mickey mumbled, burying his face into the pillow to get more sleep, inhaling Ian's scent with it.

"Up, Mickey. You need to shower after Carl. God knows you need one." With that, Fiona scrunched her face and walked out, leaving Mickey alone to sit up and wonder if she was serious. "If you aren't showered and downstairs for breakfast in ten minutes, I'll send Carl in with his gun!" She shouted out.

"Jesus, the little sociopath ain't necessary!" Mickey shouted back, then groaned and got up. Everyone was already running around the hallway like fucking chickens with their heads cut off. He rubbed his knuckles through his hair and walked through the traffic to the bathroom. Milkovich's didn't do showers, aside from Mandy. It was considered a luxury rather than a necessity. But there he was, sitting on the toilet as he waited for Carl to finish, watching as Debbie ran past the doorway after Liam and then Lip staring at Mandy's chest as they talked, obviously not that she minded.

"Yo, Gallagher." The ex-con called out. Lip's head jerked up and turned to look at him. "Eyes don't go there. Does my fist need to remind you where to look?"

Lip shook his head quickly and walked downstairs, Mandy giving her brother the middle finger before following after her boyfriend. Mickey smirked, though he really wanted to ring his sister's neck for always wearing the skimpiest of clothes. And then in turn, he wanted to kill every single guy that dared to look at her the wrong way. That's what siblings do for each other. At least, Mickey thought they did.

Carl hopped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, leaving the water on for the ex-con. Before running out of the bathroom, the kid stopped and looked at Mickey, giving him a smile that made the older boy squirm because of how unsettling it made him feel.

"The fuck you lookin' at, kid?" he scowled. Carl's smile turned into a grin, like he was getting the exact reaction he wanted. It wasn't easy to make a Milkovich feel uncomfortable, but this Gallagher had it in the bag.

"You ever use rat poison to try to kill a guy?" Carl asked. Mickey raised his eyebrows, wondering who in their right minds had set this kid off enough to make him try murder.

"I'm more of a hands on guy. Of course, bats are great to use, too. A lot more power, a lot more damage." Mickey replied, and to his great surprise, that grin seemed to grow even bigger.

"I used a bat once to break a guy's leg. He tried to drop Lip out the window over some SAT scores or something."

Mickey nodded; he had to admit Carl impressed him. But he still had plans on keeping a distance from him. And to check his food for rat poison form now on. He stood, shoved Carl out of the bathroom and then stripped out of his sweats before climbing into the shower.

The ex-con stood in the shower, letting the hot water rain down on him as he did nothing but think. Eventually, he began to slowly scrub the long existing layer of dirt from his skin, noticing for the first time how pale he skin was underneath it. He traced his tattoos, then the bite marks still remaining on his skin as a reminder of the red head he won't see for the next few years. His fingers brushed over the bruises and crescent-shaped marks on his hips, and then finally rested on the circular scar on his thigh where Kash had shot him in the store.

Mickey remembered the feeling of pain, when it happened, but that wasn't what he cared about. He cared about the pair of hands that had tried to stop the bleeding, that held his face and tried to calm him down while the police got called. Those hands had left a feeling when they touched him, they broke through the walls Mickey had built up and felt so good to the touch. There were secret moments when Mickey wanted Ian to just hold him for hours, nothing else. Then the world would melt away and he could feel safe.

If Gallagher—if anything were to happen to Ian, the ex-con didn't know what he'd do. Since the day Mandy had come home crying and saying Ian had hurt her—which now seemed so stupid that he had believed it—their lives had become intertwined. Yeah, it's gay, but it's also the truth. Ian had made Mickey feel human, that someone other than Mandy gave a shit about him. That he was more than a violent, anger-filled ex-con.

Fuck did Mickey hate it. At least, he wanted to hate it, he sure made a point to act like he did. He'd been too afraid to let it happen. He was afraid Ian would finally realize how undeserving the ex-con was, afraid that his father would find out everything.

Yet Ian still wants him. Ian still cares. And his father _had_ found out, tried to kill him, but is dead himself. Left to be burned into ash at the coroner's office for his brother's to pick up. The only thing left to fear is Gallagher getting killed. If that happens, then Mickey had nothing left. Mandy takes care of herself, has the Gallagher family to look after her like he had tried to. But there wasn't a nerve in his body that would last without feeling the roughness of Ian Gallagher again.

Suddenly a pounding on the bathroom door brought him back to reality.

"Mickey! Breakfast, now!" Fiona's voice rang out as she pounded on the door again.

"All right, I'm comin'!" Mickey shut off the water and got out, snatching a random towel hanging around to dry off with before grabbing his sweats. He quickly went to the bedroom to change and went downstairs while pulling on a "fresh" tank top. As he reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the kitchen, he watched in amazement as all the Gallaghers and his sister rushing to eat, Fiona nowhere in sight and her boyfriend Jimmy was at the stove, cooking.

"Sit your ass down already and eat, Fuck Face. The food's better than the shit we used to eat." Mandy barked at him, her attention mostly focused on scarfing down her food in between the looks she was sharing with Lip. Get a fucking room.

All Mickey did was glare and walk to the table, sitting down between Carl and Debbie. As he dug into the food Mandy was kind enough to pass over, he noticed Debbie staring at him.

"What?" he asked, rubbing his bottom lip, getting syrup on his thumb.

"You should have Veronica give you something for those bruises." She said, worry in her eyes. Mickey looked at her in disbelief. This little girl was actually worried about him.

"I can take care of myself. I've had worse, this is nothin"

Debbie seemed to think about it and find the answer good enough, going back to her breakfast, but still watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"How are you at dealing with kids?" She asked him after a minute.

"I don't do kids. On the other hand, if they're the ones causing trouble, I simply use my very convincing argument to shut them the fuck up." He rubbed his knuckles and leaned closer to her. "You got someone you need taken care of?"

Debbie was about to answer when Fiona walked in form the living room, kissing Jimmy before plopping a newspaper and a college course booklet in front of Mickey.

"The fuck are these?" he stared down at them.

"Job listings and classes. Start lookin, Mickey." She replied as she poured herself some coffee.

""You're fucking kidding me. I don't do school. I never even fucking finished high school. Besides, I already got a job."

"Stealing isn't a job. See if Linda at Kash and Grab will hire you again." Fiona handed out bags of lunch to everyone.

"I'm not going to—"

"Mickey? School?" Mandy and Lip cut in, smirking.

"Like that'll ever happen." Lip continued. Mickey stood up, cracking his knuckles.

"You think I ain't cut out for it, Lip? That I can't do it?"

"Not really, considering you haven't gotten a grade other than 'F'." Lip's eyes were challenging him, daring Mickey to do something.

"We'll see about that." Mickey grabbed the course booklet, gave Lip the finger and twisted Mandy's nipples real quick like he usually did to her in a fight before he stormed to the door.

"Where are you goin', Mickey?" Fiona called out after him.

"The fuck do you think I'm going? I'm going to fucking school." mickey slammed the door shut behind him. He'll wipe that fucking smirk of Lip's face. After all, he just gave Mickey something to prove.


	8. Chapter 8

Sitting behind the counter at the Kash and Grab, the very spot he'd watch Ian sitting at, Mickey couldn't believe he was there again. Nor the fact that Linda actually gave him the job back.

Apparently getting shot by her long gone husband and then lowering the theft rate in this place the last time gave enough incentive to have the ex-con as a repeat employee.

He felt weird being there without Gallagher to watch or talk to, or go to the back on break for another fuck. Now, Mickey spent his time flipping through the magazines like before, or sitting back and having a smoke.

It also gave him time to think. He couldn't believe he actually registered for college classes. Granted, the classes were just basic mechanics and shit, but still. As a Milkovich, he wasn't supposed to enjoy classes or even go to college. The thought normally repulsed him. But Fiona scared the ex-con too much for him to drop out.

Then there was the fact that Debbie was proud of him. She seemed to decide he was some surrogate big brother or some shit.

At home—He'd already begun to see it that way, which the Gallagher home was his too—she'd cling to Mickey's side no matter how many times he'll protest. The little Gallagher girl would tell him everything about her day and school, and about her babysitting business that she ran during the summer.

Debbie would even go to him when she was upset, whether it was over Frank or some bitch from school. And much to Mickey's chagrin, he began to take interest in listening, to care for her. He'd even find himself interested and wanting to protect her.

So when Debbie came home from school one day crying and scared out of her mind, Mickey let her run to him and cling for dear life. It was almost like taking care of Mandy. This girl, who looked like the read head fighting in some far off country, with the same wide eyes and shit eating grin that'll melt your heart.

Even if you were a Milkovich.

"Who do I have to kill?" he asked, making Debbie meet his eyes, thumbs wiping her tears away. Mickey hated crying. It made a person weak. But when it comes to a little girl, one who's a Gallagher, it's a death wish for whoever caused it.

"I-It was nothing…" she sniffled.

"Debbie. Who the fuck do I need to kill?" he asked again.

"I-I was walking home and when I turned on the street this group of g-guys tried to grab m-me. But I got away! But they still have my bag. They were talking about Frank owing them money again—"

"Why am I not surprised?" Mickey didn't need to hear any more about Frank. Whenever that fucking drunk got in trouble, it always came to bite his family in the ass. "Did you hear them say any names? Or get a good look at them?"

Mickey wasn't going to let anyone hurt the Gallaghers because of Frank's idiotic, selfish alcoholic ass again.

"Th-They called one of the guys Felix." Debbie sniffled again.

"Felix? As in the Devanaughs?" They were one of the minor dealers Mickey ran into for business. If beating the shit out of their messenger boy counted as business. He pulled away from Debbie and grabbed the bat hanging from the wall.

"Carl! Get your ass down here and bring that fucking gun with you!" He yelled up stairs. Within seconds, Carl was at Mickey's side, holding out the gun.

"What do you need it for?" he asked as Mickey took the gun from him, in return handing over the bat.

"Want to bash some skulls in?" Mickey asked him. Carl grinned and nodded, his grip on the bat's handle already tightening.

"Debs, tell Fiona that Carl and I went out to take care of some business. We'll be back when we're done." Mickey yelled back into the house as he and Carl walked out and down the street. He could already feel the adrenaline pumping, his fists itching to make contact with bone and flesh like they used to. The gun was tucked away between his lower back and the jeans he wore, his shirt covering over it.

Looking at Carl, the sadistic smile on the kid's face said it all. Shit, the kid would be perfect to use on jobs. Hell, he'd be a perfect Milkovich, really. The ex-con could tell this kid will be even more trouble when he gets older.

It was two blocks of walking before they reached the Devanaugh's home of business. Mickey stared at the house, remembering when he was eight years old and got dragged by his father over here. Terry had taken care of a few snitches for 'em, and he had yet to be paid for the finished job. Watching his older brothers help their father beat the shit out of the lot really hit it into Mickey's head what a Milkovich was expected to do, how a Milkovich was supposed to think and act. So when Felix showed up on their doorstep days later, he was gracious enough to return the favor and use his fists to remind Felix bot to bother him or his father.

As a gift, Terry had given him a six pack and went back to sleeping off his own stupor on the couch.

"So what do we do now?" Carl's excitement made Mickey smirk.

"We welcome ourselves in. Don't swing until I tell you. Got it?" he stared down at the kid, who looked reluctant and slightly disappointed they weren't going in guns blazing, but nodded nonetheless.

The two boys stormed up to the door and knocked. Well, more like Mickey just pounded his fist against the door with enough force to make it shake. The ex-con had enough decency when it came to making house calls like this. Well, sometimes. When no one answered, he gave Carl a look and kicked the door open.

Four heads snapped up from the kitchen table when they walked in. Upon seeing it was Mickey; the men grew weary, relaxing only slightly. Mickey nodded at Debbie's bag, which lay on the tables as the men blatantly went through it.

"That ain't yours, Felix. Hand it over and I'll gladly be on my way without causing any of your guys bodily harm this time around." The ex-con told him, keeping it casual as if they were merely two old friends.

The thing about age and crime families, though, was that they really got cocky. Felix leaned back in his seat, playing with a switchblade in his hands.

"Mickey Milkovich. Last time I checked, your old man is dead and you got no ties with the Gallaghers, let alone anyone cares about anyone who isn't yourself. This bag isn't yours either, so why the interest?" he sneered.

Mickey smirked, casually moving around in front of the table, a hand shoved into his pocket.

"Well, you see, obviously your intel is shitty as ever. Mandy's with the older brother and I'm currently takin' a vacation at their lovely abode. My prick of a father deserved what he got, we both know that there's plenty who're just as relieved as I am to have his sorry ass gone. But little Debbie Gallagher, on the other hand, didn't deserve to get grabbed at by the lot of you, or get her bag stolen. Deal with Frank another way, but leave the Gallaghers out of it."

Felix's men started to eye Carl and the bat he held, noticing for the first time that the ex-con wasn't alone. Felix on the other hand just smirked, scoffing.

"You brought a kid to help you get this shit back? Really cute, Milkovich. You've really gotten soft." He chuckled.

"Nah, I just know a good hitter when I see one." Mickey looked at Carl and gave him a nod.

Carl grinned, and with a "Finally." He came closer to the table and swung, connecting the bat perfectly with the guy Malcolm's arm, making an audible snap on impact. Malcolm cried out and held his arm as the other two stood up and attempted to grab the kid. Felix stabbed his switchblade into the table as he pulled out his gun, Mickey mirroring and aiming it dead on for his forehead.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Felix." Mickey saw the look in his eyes. Carl continued to hit the other three men until they were either whimpering or unconscious. The kid looked smug; staring at the bat like it was a prized possession. Felix slowly put down the gun, eyes looked on Mickey's.

"Hand over the bag, with everything in it, to the kid." He continued, watching as Felix hurriedly did as he said. "Good boy. Now, if I ever fucking find out you're messing with the Gallaghers again, I'll come back here and let Carl use your head for batting practice."

Felix blanched and nodded, slowly sitting back down with wide eyes.

"Oh, just one more thing." The ex-con moved his gun and fired, sending a bullet into Felix's shoulder. The man cried out, holding his shoulder tightly. "That was your warning."

With that, Mickey turned and walked out with Carl following at his side.


	9. Chapter 9

Fiona had given the Milkovich a hit upside the head and yelled when he returned to the house with Carl. The kid was sent upstairs immediately, but that didn't stop the grin on his face or the way he looked at Mickey as if he was the most awesome guy alive.

And even though Fiona was pissed, all of them could see she was thankful and proud he had done something for Debbie, for their family. Everyone had welcomed Mickey in, and within a month he had mixed in with their way of things.

He even helped pay the rent and groceries, and started taking Carl out with him when he went to shoot some rounds from his gun.

One thing he still made a big deal about though was being a babysitter.

"No way am I sticking around to play nanny." He said to Fiona. Mickey had wanted to head over to The Alibi, have a few drinks, and then go find some little weasel to beat the shit out of like old times. It'd been months since he got to break some ribs.

It felt like Fiona was trying to domesticate him or some shit like that.

And here she was, all dolled up nice because Jimmy wanted to take her out. More like forced her to get dressed up and go out. Fiona wasn't really into the fancy shit.

"Too fucking bad. You're a member of this household. One we consider as part of this family now. It's your turn to watch Liam and Debbie." She said while she dug through her purse.

"Why can't Lip do it? They're his fucking siblings, not mine." Mickey pretended to not hear what she said about being part of the family. He didn't want to think about how it made a part of him happy.

At the moment, he was sitting at the table, dong the class work both Mandy and the Gallagher sisters expected him to do. He kept telling himself the only reason he was doing it was to prove to Lip that a Milkovich could finish college. That Mickey Milkovich could finish college.

Fiona looked up from her purse and gave Mickey that look again. The look that made him shift out of nervousness and being uncomfortable.

"Lip took Mandy out, and Carl's out with Little Hank. I would ask V, but she's busy helping Kev out tonight at The Alibi." She told him. And before he could respond, Jimmy came down the stairs and they left.

"Have a good ol' time!" Mickey called after them, rubbing his lip. He shut his books after another minute or two and got up, moving to the couch and staring at the TV. Liam walked over to him grinning and reaching out.

"You're lucky I tolerate you, kid." He grumbled and picked up the toddler. Liam sat on his knee, playing around with Mickey's fingers. Mickey pretended to be annoyed by this, but actually enjoyed it.

"He likes you."

Mickey turned his head as Debbie walked down the stairs and over to the couch, taking her place next to him and resting her head on his shoulder. Mickey learned long enough ago that telling Debbie to "Fuck off" got him the same response as if he'd said it to Ian.

"I'm starting to notice. I thought you liked Little Hank, so why didn't you go off to fuck knows where with him and the sociopath?" he kept his attention on Liam as he tried putting Mickey's fingers in his mouth. He could tell Debbie was grinning though. A little laugh escaped her.

"I'm so over Hank. He's too much like Carl."

"Oh, great. Now there are two potential serial killers. At least I'm good with one of 'em."

The three of them sat in a comfortable silence. Something the ex-con used to hate. Now he wasn't sure what he really felt about it. The TV and Liam's giggling was the only thing you could hear from the inside, though outside the house, you could hear alarms and shouting.

After a while, Liam had fallen asleep with his head resting against Mickey's shoulder. Debbie had become absorbed with watching "Deadliest Catch" while Mickey just stared off out the window, wondering what Gallagher was doing at this moment.

Was Ian thinking about him? Did he get his ass shot yet?

Maybe Firecrotch met someone else, or finally decided he was better off without Mickey.

Then he started to criticize himself. He fucking sounded like one of the gay love sick puppies. Who cares if Ian fucking Gallagher found someone else? The idiot did a smart thing and got his ass out of Chicago. It was pathetic and weak of Mickey to think like that.

He bit his lip. No matter how many arguments Mickey has with himself, the fact he loves Ian will always be why he's jealous and scared and worried and even nervous. The sappiest thing he would ever MAYBE do in front of anyone would be some hug or whatever.

For Ian…He doesn't know.

Mickey didn't realize that Debbie had spoken to him until he looked at her, her eyes staring, waiting for some answer.

"You say something?" he asked stupidly, shifting slightly.

"I said that Ian sent another letter." She replied, huffing. Mickey tried his best to not look as interested as he really was.

"Oh? What'd Gallagher write?"

"Just that he misses us. And…He said he saw one of his friends get killed." She spoke quietly.

Mickey tensed. If Ian lost a friend, then that'd mean there was an even bigger risk of it being him next time. And it meant Gallagher could have been crying. Dammit, Ian shouldn't have to cry about something like that. He shouldn't have had to even go through it.

"Shit…" Mickey mumbled.

"But he said he was tough like you'd want him to be. And he also said that if you ever do anything to upset us or get us hurt that he'll use his Army training to kick your ass." Debbie continued.

"He wishes." Mickey scoffed, hiding that he was proud of his Gallagher.

Maybe he'll be all right. Mickey couldn't help but smile, though he quickly bit down on his lip to hide it.

"You should write to him, too. Mandy and all of us do." Debbie suggested. Mickey scowled.

"Fuck off. I don't do writing, let alone something stupid like letters."

Debbie frowned. "But he'd like it. Ian would be happy if you wrote to him."

"I don't write letter, Debbie. End of fucking story." He didn't want to think about the part of him that was winning over.

Debbie looked like she wanted to argue, but instead closed her mouth and resumed watching TV, her head back on his shoulder.

When Jimmy and Fiona came home later that night, the three were still asleep on the couch, the same positions they'd been in earlier.

The two stared at them in fascination.

"Should we wake them up?" Jimmy whispered. Fiona just smiled and shook her head.

"Leave them. Savor this rarity while we can." She whispered back, leading Jimmy up the stairs after covering Mickey, Liam, and Debbie with a blanket and kissing their foreheads. Even Mickey's.

And even asleep, Mickey knew he'd let this happen again. Maybe.


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you all for such kind reviews, and for favoriting and following. It means so much to me that you like reading this. This chapter came out a little different than I thought it would, but I hope you all enjoy.**

The day the two older Milkovich brothers' came for Mickey, he was alone.

Jimmy and Fiona had decided to take everyone out to see a movie since they'd gotten enough extra cash for the luxury. For some reason though, he hadn't felt like going. It was as if there was a weight on his chest that night for some mysterious reason.

"You sure, Mickey? Debs and Carl really want you to go." Lip had asked, leaning against the doorframe with a smoke. Mickey stayed where he was in the bed and stared at his own cigarette. The ex-con had taken only one drag from it, and then watched the rest burn away into ash.

"Yeah, well, that's too bad. I told you I ain't feeling good. Just leave it at that and go have some good times with the family. Besides, I saw the movie last week anyway." Mickey looked up at Lip, who actually had a bit of concern on his face. The two had started to grow as friends.

Great, Mickey had a friend. That's sure as hell something he never thought he'd say in his life.

Lip took a drag and nodded. "Don't be a fucking depressive lazy ass, at least."

"Fuck off, Lip."

Lip gave Mickey a smirk for the road and walked downstairs. Mickey listened as the Gallaghers left, the door closing and locking, then heard them shouting at each other as they got into Jimmy's car—That was most likely stolen—And drove off.

The ex-con lied there, on his stomach as was customary and finally put out the remaining cigarette. Then he shifted onto his back, staring at the ceiling like he's seemed to do a lot lately as he thought.

Earlier, he'd been just fine. He got up at the sound of Fiona's yelling that morning, showered and dressed like she made him, then sat at the table and ate some waffles Jimmy found time to make before he had to leave to who the fuck knew. Then he grabbed his secondhand backpack and went off to his classes before spending a shift at the Kash and Grab under Linda's surveillance.

When he got there, he'd noticed that there was a car across the street watching him. It felt like old times when he'd done something to piss off some guy Terry did a job with. He hated being followed. It kept him on his toes with some creeped out feeling, his gut telling him to run for some unknown reason. When he tried to see who the car was, they slowly drove off, the windows tinted. Shit, who did he piss off this time? He hasn't even done anything in the past six months!

Well, aside from the Felix incident. But none of those pussies bothered to try messing with him afterwards.

At that moment, Mickey forced himself to shrug it off and yell at some kids trying to steal a couple magazines.

But now, it was sort of the reason he was feeling like this. The other reason had happened because of what he found when he came home. Fiona and Jimmy were still out at work, and Lip was at the table talking to Mandy over something. Mickey didn't ever really care what they talked about, but from the way Lip was looking a little heated, he guessed it was over schools again.

Mandy wouldn't leave Lip alone about it. Mickey knew it was because she saw all the good in people, while he saw the bad. Except in Ian and his family. They let their flaws shine through without giving a shit what people thought. And they were still mostly nice about it all.

Mickey found the stack of mail on the counter that hadn't been looked through, just got tossed onto the counter without much regard. It was there he noticed a letter. Not the letter specifically, but the handwriting on the envelope containing the letter.

Ian's newest letter to them all.

The recognition of the red head's handwriting had made the ex-con stop in the middle of the kitchen, eyes glued to the envelope. He completely forgot why he was standing there in the first place, but now this was where his attention stayed. Mandy and Lip were too engaged with each other to pay him any mind. He could just take the letter and read it.

Fuck no, not a chance he was going to. Who gave a shit what Gallagher wrote anyway? It's not like he plans on writing back. He'll never write, that'd be too gay.

Yet there he was taking the letter and going quickly up the stairs to his-Ian and Carl and Liam's room. Mickey closed the door and went over to the bed, sitting on it as he ripped open the envelope. It was stupid and faggy, but Mickey could swear he smelt Ian's scent on the paper.

He was more careful with opening it than he had been with the envelope. His eyes followed every word it said, taking it in like the red head was there in person saying it all to him.

_Dearest Gallagher fuck ups and Mandy,_

_Again, I'm perfectly fine. All ten fingers and toes are counted for. If you thought that summer in Chicago was fucking unbearable, wait until you're walking through the desert with all your gear on your back._

_The guys here are good to me. The company is like a whole entire second family. We tell each other everything. Xavier tells us about his mom's cooking, which he has been lucky enough to receive along with his girlfriend's letters. And there's Chris, who talks about what it used to be like at home taking care of his siblings whenever their dad worked late shifts._

_We all miss our families; we'd do anything to be back at home. I miss you all, and I love you. Yes, Mandy, I love you too. And no, I will not ask Chris for a picture to give you. Satisfy your needs with Lip. Ew, wait, don't tell me if you do or not, I don't need to know what my brother does._

_Debs, I'm sorry for missing your birthday. I'll make it up to you when I get back. Tell Carl not to poison anyone again. And that he is not to follow in Mickey's footsteps._

_Tell Mickey that my ass is still intact for me. And that even if it'll get my tongue ripped out for being said, he should know that I miss him. I think about him just as much as I think of each of you._

_Love, Ian_

By now, Mickey had every word memorized. Ian thinks about him. Every day. It made his heart try to burst out of his chest knowing that.

That's why he couldn't stop feeling heavy. He wanted to have Gallagher there with him instead of fucking feeling like his life was ending. Mickey didn't want to feel like this, like there was something inside him missing. It wasn't fucking fair he had to feel it.

The sound of the front door getting kicked in was what made Mickey get out of bed.

"Mickey! Faggot, we know you're here!"

Joey. Joey was here. And he knows.

"Get your ass down here before we tear the place apart!"

From the sound of it, both brothers were there, and pissed. Such a great Milkovich combination.

"What do you two dickheads want, Joey?" Mickey asked as he waltzed down the stairs into the living room. Both older boys were standing in front of the couch, faces contorted with anger and resentment. Joey walked around to meet Mickey, staring him down.

"We know it was you. You fucking assmonkey!"

"You know, your devotion to our dearly departed father is kinda sad, Joey. Congrats on figuring out I like cock. Do you two plan on finishing what dad started?" Mickey's voice was full of contempt.

He may have been afraid of Terry, but his brothers were another story. They were just followers. They were fucking dumb ass puppies who respected the guy and did everything they were told. It was pathetic, just like they were. They were weak, stupid, and sure as fuck ignorant.

"You fucking bet we are." Joey grabbed Mickey by the neck and pinned him to the wall. The ex-con kneed his brother, and then threw him over the couch when he stumbled back. The third Milkovich brother lunged at Mickey, making them fall back to the ground where they struggled until Mickey got a new fist to his face, taking him by surprise.

Mickey recovered as quickly as he could. No fucking way was he going to get his face bashed in by these two. The familiar adrenaline pumped through the ex-con. Another knee to the groin and punch to the nose was all it took to get his brother off. Then the two played unfairly, grabbing Mickey while the other punched him repeatedly.

He sagged as he let the pain in. Pain was a friend, it was welcomed. This was all he needed. Mickey head-butted Joey then shoved the other away and succeeded in grabbing the bat.

"One more step and I bash you both." He warned. The looks they shared were enough to know their family ties were severed.

"You're fucking dead to us. You understand?" Joey growled.

"I couldn't give less of a shit than I do now. Get the fuck out before I break your kneecaps. You need 'em to run."

With a final glare, the brothers left. Mickey knew the Milkovich brothers weren't going to stay gone. Then again, it's called being drunk and having poor short term memory. Those fucks won't see straight the next time they come over.

By the time everyone got back home, Mickey was back in the bed like nothing had happened.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thank you again for the reviews, especially Reds23, who I must thank so much. It feels amazing to have someone say what you did. So, here's the next chapter, and I hope you all enjoy it. I may go ahead and post Chapter 12 today too. But for now, here is some Mickey and Lip bonding.**

When he looked up after hearing the ring signaling someone just walked into the Kash and Grab, Mickey didn't expect to see Lip standing there in front of him.

Sure, Lip had come in a bunch of times when Ian was here or when he had to pick things up for Kev or his own accord. But the look on Lip's face specifically said he was there to see the ex-con.

Mickey quickly thought back to figure out what he'd done. But he couldn't think of anything he'd done recently, unless you counted rigging the shower to spew out freezing cold water when Lip got in. He'd admit Carl was a good help with that one.

But was that really enough for Lip to come down here to see Mickey while was working?

Mickey closed the magazine he was reading and leaned back on the stool, crossing his arms loosely against his chest.

"Need somethin, Lip?" he asked, eyes focused on the Gallagher.

Lip looked like he was a mix of flustered and pissed. The boy pulled lit up a smoke and started pacing like he usually did, his other hand stuffed in his pocket.

"Your sister doesn't know when to stay out of my fucking business."

"Congratulations, it only took you, what, three years to figure work that out?" Mickey rolled his eyes and leaned forward, going back to his magazine.

"Does she not understand that it's my decision? Instead of fucking filling out applications for me and sending them off, the least she could fucking do is talk to me about it!" Lip continued as if Mickey didn't speak, taking a quick drag of his cigarette.

Mickey stared at Lip, wondering why the fuck he thought the ex-con would want to have this conversation.

"She's a Milkovich. We're stubborn. At least with her, she's actually giving a fuck about you. Would you rather she act like your old slut Karen and treat you like nothin?"

Lip glared at Mickey for a long moment, and then slowly it left his face. Obviously, Lip didn't think much for people caring.

Fuck, that blonde bitch must've left a mark on him.

Mickey wouldn't say it, but he'd somewhat paid attention to Firecrotch's ramblings over his family. As much as he'd tried not to give a shit, the ex-con had found himself growing an interest in what Gallagher would talk about. So when car stealing Steve turned out to be rich boy Jimmy, Mickey knew about it. When Fiona would start a new job, Mickey knew about it.

And when Lip got fucked over by Karen, he knew about it.

And when listening wasn't enough anymore, Mickey had nonchalantly started helping Ian with things like his ROTC training. And getting shot in the ass for helping Ian steal shit for that wrinkled old doctor.

Lip stared at the bright cherry of his cigarette. "Why the fuck would she even gives a shit about me and college?"

The ex-con pinched the bridge of his nose. And he thought Lip was supposed to be intelligent.

"Lip, you really don't fucking understand girls, do you?"

"When they're all missing a few screws, it gets pretty hard to."

"Okay, let me put this in a way that we will both understand. Chicks are like your math theorems and equations and shit. They're different, complex, and give you a fucking headache by the time you're done with 'em. "Mickey paused to light up his own cigarette, taking a drag and breathing the smoke out through his nostrils before rubbing his lip and continuing.

"Mandy grew up with a mom who ran off to get high instead of taking care of her children, a father who'd drink and hit us much harder than he fucking should, and three brothers. Of those brothers, only one gave a shit and took care of her."

Lip stared at Mickey, listening, confusion on his face still as he tried to understand where the ex-con was going.

"While I obviously don't give a shit and wouldn't bother to trust anyone, Mandy is the opposite. She knows the good in people. Like Firecrotch. She gives a fuck about other people. No one wants to stay here forever, Lip. She sure as hell doesn't want you to."

Mickey walked out from behind the counter and walked to the cooler, pulling out a beer and opening it. Lip followed and watched, his face channeling several different expressions.

"I don't see why that all fucking ties into why she won't leave me alone about going to college. I have family here. We take care of each other; I'm not fucking bailing like Monica." Lip really didn't see everything, did he?

Mickey took a swallow of beer before looking at the Gallagher.

"Let me put it to you this way. Maybe it'll finally break through that thick ass skull of yours, Gallagher. You fucked around with my sister. She realized she likes you. And I can fucking see that you like her. Only reason she's doing what she did is because she cares about you and wants to get you the fuck out of here where you got a chance to be somethin. Ian got out, why can't you? Instead of being a dumbass prick, go make up with Mandy before I kick the shit out of you for hurting her."

Lip cracked a slight smile. "So Mickey Milkovich does have feelings."

"Tell anyone I do and I'll slit your throat while you sleep."

Lip smirked, stuck his cigarette between his lips and started for the door with his hands in his pockets. Then, suddenly he stopped and turned right around.

"Mickey, how would you be able to see I like her?" he asked.

"'Cause you got that same fucking look on your face that Firecrotch gets." Mickey grumbled.

"What'd you say?"  
"I said I'm a fucking telepath. Now get your ass over to my sister." Mickey glared.

"I'm pretty sure that's not what you said." Lip commented, amusement in his eyes.

Mickey flipped Lip off as he laughed and walked out. It was funny, it took at that moment for him to realize Ian and Lip both gave the Milkovich siblings the same look that flat out said "I love you."

The ex-con found himself smiling and quickly put a stop to it by downing the beer in his hand.

Dammit, why did he actually have to give a shit?


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Just wanted to say that the italics mean that this is a dream, and everything else that is normal writing is what's going on in the real world. So things will change without warning through the dream. Enjoy.**

"_Oh Christ, Mick." He moaned, face familiarly buried into the Mickey's back. The ex-con's face was buried into Ian's pillow, breathing in the red head's scent. Ian's nails were digging into Mickey's hips, as if they were long overdue to leave a mark. _

_Ian moved in and out of Mickey like their lives depended on it. It was like they needed to keep going as roughly as they could just to keep breathing._

_Mickey's back was covered with bite marks that were newly made, Ian's neck covered with them as well, along with scratches on his arms from when they first started. Both boys' moans got louder as they got closer to climaxing._

"_Shit, Gallagher!" The ex-con yelled as Ian hit that special spot, making Mickey's nerves explode with pleasure. Ian slowed down his thrusting, turning Mickey's head and pressing their lips together._

"_I don't want to stop…" The red head whispered against his mouth._

_Mickey wanted to tell him not to, but the words didn't get a chance to come out. Both boys arched, Mickey into Ian's chest, and came with the cry of each other's names. The ex-con fell limp against the bed as Firecrotch collapsed on top of him._

"_So much for not stopping…" Ian muttered against his chest. Mickey wrapped an arm around Ian, brushing his fingers against the warm soft skin. He missed feeling this._

"_Maybe next time, Firecrotch." Mickey stared at the ceiling, never wanting this to end._

"_I love you." Ian whispered._

_After a moment of silence, the ex-con opened his mouth to speak._

"_I lo—"_

_Suddenly, the scene changed. He was standing in an airport. There were dozens of families around him, all excited and already crying though no one's come out to greet them yet._

_Mickey found himself feeling nervous. He didn't do this type of shit, it made him feel faggy. At least he didn't have tears or flowers._

_The doors finally opened, letting loose a grouping of soldiers, each searching for their own family. There were childish squeals around him, couples kissing. But so far, he was standing there alone._

"_You actually came." A deep voice spoke behind him, causing Mickey to jump and whirl around, punching Gallagher's arm._

"_Fucking asshole." Mickey glared, then shifted and rubbed his bottom lip. "Yeah, I came. Don't get too excited."_

_Ian grinned, snaking a hand to the back of Mickey's head and bringing their lips together. In response, Mickey gripped his arms tightly to never let go. When they pulled back, Mickey bit down on his bottom lip._

"_Do that again and I'll make you regret it." Mickey whacked Ian's arm again, making the red head laugh and drape an arm around his shoulders knowing it'd annoy him._

"_It's good to be home."_

"_It better fucking be. Making me wait around like some doting housewife for the past four years. I should make you choke on a fucking roast or somethin." Mickey muttered._

"_Aw, but who would you go to for a fuck? Angie?" Ian laughed._

"_Don't tempt me. There's plenty I can find." Mickey grumbled as he unlocked the car. He took Ian's duffel bag and tossed it into the back and got in, waiting for Firecrotch to get in the passenger seat._

"_Oh really now?" Ian shifted so his whole body faced Mickey, amusement clear in his eyes._

"_You don't believe me?" Mickey asked as he started the car. The red head leaned forward and rested his lips against Mickey's ear._

"_I'm the best fuck you've had. You wouldn't trade down." Ian whispered before pulling back with a smirk. Mickey's face reddened slightly, forcing his focus on driving rather than the new hard on Ian was making appear._

"_Best fuck? You wish." He muttered, not even bothering to put any conviction into it. Driving home with Gallagher was the best feeling, seeing that shit eating grin for the first time in years and hearing Firecrotch try to sing along with the radio. You'd never think they were apart._

_As Mickey opened his mouth to say something, the cars seemed to stop suddenly in front of him, making the ex-con slam on his and swerve before the car jerked, unable to move. Before he had the chance to fix it, a car that hadn't stopped came barreling forward, making impact._

_Then Mickey found himself in dirt and sand, the cars no longer around him. He wasn't in Chicago anymore. _

_Sitting up, he could hear explosions and gunshots, and most of all the shouting of orders in both English and some foreign language he would never try to learn. The sun beat down on him in such an unforgiving way, and there was nothing to see but sand, dirt, dead grass, and little hills._

_Mickey stood carefully, looking around even more. He walked towards the hills, freezing when he saw what they hid. So this was it. This was where Firecrotch has been all the time._

_There were men with guns everywhere; some dressed in Army uniform while the rest were dressed in shit Mickey had only seen in movies. There were Humvees and launchers, it was like seeing a full out war movie in front of his eyes._

_At the sound of nearby gunshots, Mickey ducked, as if that'd help him, though they weren't shooting his way at all. He could see clusters of men and women as medics helped injured or looked at the dead. His eyes locked on a tuff on red hair, but relief arrived for only a moment as he saw it wasn't Gallagher._

_With shaky legs, the ex-con stood. _

"_Gallagher! Gallagher!" Mickey began shouting over and over, running through the chaos, determined._

_Pushing and shoving men running in his way, he kept shouting, until finally he heard a shout back._

"_Mickey?!"_

_Mickey whirled around to find Gallagher standing there, eyes wide in horror and surprise. He couldn't help but smile in relief he found his red head, but slowly it faded. Ian slowly stumbled toward him, blood leaving his body from three different bullet holes._

_Gallagher collapsed into the ex-con, who quickly fell to his knees with him, holding tightly. _

"_Fuck, no, Gallagher, hold on. Don't fucking die on me you son of a bitch." The words stumbled from Mickey's mouth as the red head stared up at him, giving him a weak grin._

"_It's okay, Mick. You were right." A bloody hand cupped Mickey's cheek. "Just remember. We're gay, and we love each other…" The hand started to fall, but Mickey wouldn't let it, holding the hand against his own cheek. He watched as the last of Gallagher's light disappeared, until he was kneeling there holding what used to be Ian Gallagher._

"_You fucking asshole." He whispered. "I love you too."_

Mickey jerked awake, surging so that he was sitting up. He was drenched in sweat, and he was breathing as if he'd just run five blocks from the cops.

He rubbed his face, and then looked around to find himself still in the Gallagher house, still lying in Firecrotch's old bed. And by the looks of it, it was still late at night. Liam and Carl were both still asleep in the bunks.

"Just a fucking miserable dream." Mickey whispered to himself.

Mickey quietly got out of the bed and walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind himself. Flicking the lights on, the ex-con just stared at his reflection, trying to understand what he just felt.

It was just a fucking dream. No, a fucking nightmare. It started like a dream, that was for sure. He looked down at his hipbones, pushing the sweats down a little lower. Nope, they were the same faded scars. Yet he could still feel Gallagher's touch everywhere. His skin felt like it was burning.

He'd never been more scared now of Ian fighting in this war. Oh, sorry, it's a "conflict" a fucking long ass one that involves war-like activity. And his Gallagher was in the middle of it.

If Ian doesn't come back…

Well, Mickey knew what he'd do on his part.


	13. Chapter 13

Dear Gallagher,

First, congrats on not getting your ass shot off yet. A year and a half is an accomplishment. I guess. Well, you probably think of it as one, so yeah.

Second, fuck off. Yeah, I wrote you a letrer. Figured you deserved a prize for living. Don't get too excited or expect another one. I admit it, I still miss you. There, I said it, now take that fuckin grin off your face.

After a year and a fucking half of you being wherever the hell this letter got sent, your face has engrained itself in my mind no matter how badly I don't want it to be.

Mandy and your siblings most likely told you about me livin with them for the past year. A few months ago I bought myself an apartment. Finally getting my space from the cramped shithole you call a house. I figured that when you come back you could move into the apartment if you wanted, like I care. And I finished community college. Got a second job working as a mechanic. Stealing car parts got me somewhere after all.

I guess I sorta like your family. They're tolerable. Just so you know, Fiona is fucking scary as shit, and Debbie is clingy as shit. I used to think Carl was a sociopath. He still is, but now I kinda like having someone to teach things to.

Do me a favor and get home with your ass in tact. These fucking dreams or nightmares or whatever have been bugging the hell out of me, so I figure that means you need to get back to Chicago as quickly as you can.

-Mickey

P.S. Firecrotch, I might kinda sorta maybe love you. Don't be a fuckin bitch and cry some damn tears of joy over it. Oh, and Lip grew some balls and proposed to Mandy.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait for this chapter, and for Fucked Up's update as well. Got busy with school, but now that it's spring break, I might finish this story. Anyway,s thank you for the reviews and favoriting/following. It means a lot to me. Please enjoy.**

The apartment wasn't anything that special, small with only a little furniture and piles of dirty clothes, beer bottles, and dead cigarettes all around. Mickey called it home, though, and he hoped that Gallagher would think of it that way when he's finally back in Chicago. Maybe Mickey could be persuaded to clean up a little. Maybe.

The ex-con had bought a small set of plates and utinsels he only used when the Gallagher siblings came over to visit, and a TV that he actually paid for hooked up in the living room residing in front of the beat up couch. The bedroom had a small closet, but Mickey only used half of it, as if he was practicing for when Firecrotch made an existence in the apartment. There was even a dresser, and then in the center of the room was the bed. It was comfortable to Mickey, considering he's lived in small spaces his entire life.

Now, he was standing in front of the closet's mirror door, fixing up the tie and suit that only Mandy could force him into wearing.

There was a knock at the door, giving a hint that it was time. He wasn't looking forward to giving his sister away. It meant no more Mickey and Mandy against the world. No more of it being them looking after each other and no one else. If Lip does anything to hurt her, Mickey will ensure he never saw the light of day again. Ever.

The knocking continued as Mickey headed for the door.

"I'm comin! Jesus!" he yelled, opening the door to reveal Fiona standing with Debbie and Liam, shifting impatiently.

"Mickey, we gotta go!" Debbie hugged him quickly, and by newfound habit he returned the hug briefly.

"You look nice, Mickey. We need to be at The Alibi Room in ten minutes." Fiona smiled.

They all couldn't afford some fancy church, even with Mickey working a bunch of jobs, so Kev offered to let them use The Alibi Room like when he and Veronica faked their wedding. Of course, Mickey only knew that unnecessary piece of information all because Firecrotch let it slip one night when they were high as fuck.

Lately, Mickey's felt a new ache in his chest thinking about his red head out on duty. He swears Gallagher planned all this. Planned for him to wind up getting to know his fucking family and actually give two shits about them and like them, and start doing non-Milkovich things. But he couldn't get himself to be angry. At least, not today.

Mandy's wedding was more important. So he sat in the back of the Gallagher's car-much likely stolen from the lovely Jimmy-between Liam and Debbie. Carl was in front of them talking to Mickey about the new bat he stole and how he's been practicing with the animals that run into the yard. Shit, this kid still freaked Mickey out, yet at the same time he definitely liked the potential. Fiona sat in the front with Jimmy, fidgeting with nervousness. Fuck, they all were.

Of the Milkovich family, Mickey would be the only one there. No fucking way was Iggy and Joey comin to it, especially after the several threats they continued to make. But Mickey and Mandy were okay with that. No one wanted those fucks there.

As they pulled up, Lip was outside, dragging from a cigarette and pacing. When he looked over and saw them getting out of the car, he tossed the cigarette and walked over.

"Is everything ready?" Fiona asked, searhing Lip's face for a sign of danger.

"Oh yeah, evrything's ready to go. You guys are the last to show up." Lip was speaking quickly, fidgeting way more than his family had just been, which was a sign enough for Mickey. The ex-con grabbed Lip by the lapels of his tux and brought their faces close together.

"Listen up, Phillip. You better not be getting fucking cold feet, you stupid little shithead. You have my little sister inside, excited and truly happy for the first time in our fucked up lives. So if you're having second thoughts, speak now or forever hold your fucking piece." Mickey growled in a low voice. The others stared, unsure what to do. Even Fiona had grown to like Mandy. No one wanted to see what would happen between the Gallaghers and Milkovich siblings if things went wrong.

Lip's fear was obvious, the way his eyes were abnormally wide, his hands gripping Mickey's wrists tightly like his life-quite literally-was on the line. He quickly shook his head.

"No, Mickey, just jitters is all." Lip replied, offering a very nervous smile.

"Good." Mickey let go, straightening out Lip's clothes.

"You guys should get inside. We're supposed to start in a few minutes." Lip looked at all of them, slowly beginning to act like his normal self, with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Fiona and Jimmy led the kids inside, giving Mickey a look as he passed.

"That wasn't necessary, you know." She whispered. Mickey just shrugged.

"It worked, didn't it? Besides, I wouldn't be a good big brother if I didn't scared the panicking thoughts out of my soon-to-be brother-in-law."

Fiona sighed.

"You've been a good brother alone by paying for everything. Mandy's dress was fucking expensive."

"Fuck off, my sister's worth it." He glared at Fiona weakly. Mickey had taken up a third job, aside from Kash and Grab and the construction sites around town, just to pay for the food and Kev, and to make sure Mandy could relax about the dress.

He even put some money towards Lip and Mandy having a real honeymoon. Not too special and sure as fuck not anyplace like Paris or Hawaii, but he figured they'd be in the room for most of it anyway, so he got them a week at some bed and breakfast out in Connecticut. Even helping Mandy wih the wedding, it all felt gay. But Mickey swallowed it back, his sister was so much more fucking important than the gayness of everything.

"How do I look, Fuck Face?" Mandy asked with a smile as Mickey walked into the back room, which Kev normally used as storage.

For a moment, Mickey was afraid to say anything because he would do something very unMickey-like: Cry.

However, he did allow himself to do one faggy thing, which was memorize how his little sister looked in her dress. Mandy had pinned up her hair, which no longer held any bright colored streaks. Her make up for once looked natural and made her look more beautiful than she'd looked with all the eyeliner. Her dress had been strapless and ironically white-not cream or ivory, just pure white-and clung tightly to her upper body before flowing out at the waist to her ankles.

Mandy would forever in this moment be beautiful.

Mickey cleared his throat, giving her one of his rare smiles, which then became a smirk.

"I think this is the most fabric I've seen you wear."

Mandy punched him in the arm.

"No shit, asshole, now be serious." Mandy demanded.

"Bitch, no hitting! Shit, I already fucked up this arm last week!" mickey growled, rubbing his arm. "You look great, Mands. Fucking beautiful, okay?"

"Thank you." She replied, satisfied. Then she started to look nervous. "Did you see Lip? How's he doin?"

"He's fine, just as scared as you are." Mickey found himself having moments of niceness every little while, much to his own chagrin. But Mandy always made him a softie when it came to a Gallagher. "Just take a fucking breath. It's all going to be fine."

When they heard Fiona start the music and saw her wave to them, the siblings linked their arms together and walked out. The usual gathering of drinkers were in attendance, Kev and Veronica there as well. Some college friends of Lip's wrre there along with a few Mandy made. Frank sat at the bar while the Gallagher siblings stood by the new flatscreen with Lip and the pastor. The was the perfect grouping for a Gallagher-Milkovich wedding.

Mandy smiled as they stopped next to Lip, then Mickey kissed her cheek and shook Lip's hand with a warning squeeze before moving aside. He didn't cry through the ceremony, or even when Lip and Mandy had their kiss. When everyone grabbed drinks and danced as a signal for the reception to start, Mickey stayed at the bar with a beer in his hands and talked to Kev. Of course, when Frank tried to make a speech, the ex-con was there to shut him up with the offer of a free drink.

Mickey was perfectly fine sitting on the sidelines. He hated dancing. It wasn't his thing. But what had begun to be his thing was taking pictures. It was like he needed to keep track of the events in his life without Gallagher. It was his way of collecting everything Ian would ever need to know when he comes home. So there were pictures of Ian's family and Mickey with Mandy, and even some of just himself. At this moment, he wanted to take as many pictures as possible to show Firecrotch what he missed at Lip and Mandy's wedding.

The real reason for him taking these pictures was really to show the red head how much he missed him. That Mickey has been feeling things and has no idea what the fuck he's supposed to do about it. The ex-con had already pussied out and sent Gallagher that letter. Pussied out and fucking admitted to Firecrotch that he's in love with him. If Gallagher makes a big fucking deal about it, Mickey will kill the red head himself.

Before Mickey knew what was happening, Mandy pulled him off the stool and dragged him to the center of the room, then began swaying, leaving a smirking Kev and laughter mixed with shock by the others. Mickey tried to pull away, but Mandy's grip just tightened, the smile never leaving her face.

"Fuck you." He whispered with a grimace.

"My wedding, therefore you get to dance and pretend you like it, Fuck Face." She whispered back with a grin.

"I'm going to kill you when you get your ass back from Connecticut."

"Now Mickey, we both know that's not gonna happen."

"Fuck off." He muttered.

Mickey let her keep him dancing until the song ended, then got out of her grasp and went back to the bar to down his beer and order a new one.

When it was time for Lip and Mandy to leave for the airport, the entire group of guests hugged them goodbye, and Mickey relented and gave them one as well.

"Take care of my sister or else I'll cut your fucking dick off." He growled into Lip's ear.

"I have no doubt about that." Lip replied as they broke apart. Mandy gave her brother the finger as the couple drove offm leaving him with a small smile he couldn't bring himself to hide. When he found Debbie crying, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"No crying Debs. They're gonna be back in a week. They aren't dead or somethin." He told her, to which now Debbie listened, sniffling and nodding like they were the best words of wisdom.

Jimmy stayed at The Alibi Room to help Kev and Veronica clean up as everyone began to head home. The car was silent as they drove Mickey back to his apartment, Fiona and Debbie giving his arm a squeeze before he got out and went inside.

Mickey took a look around at his apartment, empty and dark, and thought about how different it'll look with Gallagher's shit and light or whatever. Yet another faggy thing, but the ex-con was too tired to care. He wandered to the bedroom, stripping off his clothes along the way and tossing them into a pile by the dresser, then climbed into bed and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The clock said it was two in the morning when the phone woke him up. Mickey tried to ignore it, groaning and covering his head with the pillow. The phone cut off. Within seconds it rang again.

"Fucking…" the ex-con got out of bed and sleepily walked to the living room. Almost dropping the phone, he quickly caught it and answered.

"The fuck do you want? Do you fucking realize what time it is?" his voice was flat.

"M-M-Mickey." The voice rang out on the other end and seemed loud, but he could tell they'd been crying. Mickey immediately felt wide awake.

"Debbie, what's wrong?" he listened as she tried and failed to speak clearly, then heard Fiona tell her to sit with Liam and took the phone. Fiona's voice sounded strained and tired. She's been crying too.

"Mickey, we just got a call."

Mickey's heart dropped. Did something happen to his sister?

"Are Lip and Mandy all right?" For once since the ex-con was eight, he could feel the tears threatening to fully run over.

"They're fine." She replied quickly, like they were merely the subject of groceries or laundry.

"Then what the fuck is it, Fiona?" Mickey heard her take a breath, like she was trying to stop her own new wave of tears.

"It was the Army, Mickey. It's Ian."


	15. Chapter 15

Mickey stood out in the hallway a few days later, unable to feel any emotion. At least, on the outside.

He knew it would happen. That Gallagher was going to get hurt. That something would fucking happen and he'd have no way to be there to protect the guy he cares about. They'd said it was a mine. That his company was driving one of the Humvees or whatever the fuck the Army called it, and ran over a mine they hadn't caught.

Ian had been walking ahead of the Humvee when the mine exploded, been thrown by the force and hit a rock or something hard enough to knock him unconscious. He hadn't been able to do anything about it.

That's why Gallagher was lying in a hospital bed, in a coma. They'd waited three days for him to wake up, and when he didn't, they sent him home to the hospital for treatment. Hasn't woken up still. The doctors aren't sure if he even will or not.

Mickey could only stand there as they all listened. He could only think of his red head lying in that hospital room. He could only think of how powerless Ian was, unable to wake up, and how powerless he was to help Gallagher.

No. instead, he'd been sitting at a wedding feeling happy and smiling.

His fucking nightmare had come true. Only lucky thing was that the red head is still breathing.

Mandy and Lip had wanted to get on a return flight home immediately, but Fiona convinced them to stay in Connecticut and have their honeymoon. They could see Ian when they get back. Maybe Ian would be awake by then.

At least he won't be in another country anymore. No, Gallagher's home and he's there to stay.

Carl's face was eerily blank, a lighter in his hands that the kid kept turning on and off. Liam stayed in Fiona's lap, quietly learning about Ian's condition while Debbie clung to Mickey's side, unable to hold back her tears.

Mickey didn't want to say it, and he won't, but he liked to think she was crying for the both of them.

Only a small wave of relief hit Mickey when the doctor said Gallagher had chance of waking up. That they had taken him off the meds to see if he'll wake up. He watched the doctor walk away. Mickey figured that his siblings would want to see their brother privately. But much to his surprise, Fiona looked at him with soft, sad eyes.

"Go on, Mickey. Go see Ian." She said quietly, shifting Liam to get comfortable again while he stared at the ex-con with wide tear-filled eyes.

"You're his family. You're more important than the guy he'd been fucking before he left." He said, shaking his head. Really, he wasn't ready to see Ian all bandaged and cut up. Not again.

Fiona seemed to find the fear hiding in his eyes and nodded, standing up.

"Go home. Get some rest and come back when you're ready. I'll have Debs call you when we leave." Fiona came over and hugged him, Liam and Debbie joining in while Carl stood tall and tough a few feet away. Mickey was tense, like when they first started hugging him. But this time, it wasn't the contact that made him cringe. It was his fear and the love they were openly giving him.

The ex-con pulled away while nodding, then went over to Carl. They just looked at each other, their eyes sending the message of "Don't do anything stupid." Mickey could see how much he and Carl acted alike. Which also meant he knew what Carl could do in here.

Carl nodded at the message, pocketing his lighter before Mickey walked out.

Mickey didn't go home. He didn't want to look at the apartment while he saw images of Ian in his head.

Instead, he drove to the baseball field and sat in their dugout. Yeah, he considered it as his and Ian's. it's all about territory, not touchy-feely shit. That's always what he told everybody, even now.

"I fucking knew it…" he kept telling himself, rubbing his fists through his hair. "I knew he'd get hurt. I should've told him not to fucking go, dammit!"

Mickey quickly stood. He was anxious and angry and scared. At himself, at the Army, at the life his Firecrotch had to live with. It was their fucking fault. If Frank hadn't been a worthless drunk or Monica didn't abandon them constantly, or if Gallagher had lived with his real father, then he'd never have had the desire to get the fuck out of here.

If the Army hadn't told him it was the only way he'd get out of Chicago, Firecrotch would have been safely attending college.

If Mickey hadn't been a scared little bitch and told Ian he was in love with him, then just maybe Gallagher would have decided to stay.

But life was never fucking fair or easy or even simple. Shit always happens and so look where life landed them.

Life had given Mickey a non-existent mother and a drunk, abusive, and homophobic father. Life had beaten into Mickey to only care for himself and that feeling anything else made him weak. Life made him fuck things up again and again.

But life also gave him Ian Gallagher. Life gave them that first connection and made them want more. Life is what made them love each other.

And life brought Ian back to Mickey, alive and breathing.

Mickey slowly calmed down, gripping the chain-link. Maybe things can be different this time.

He's never gonna be a fucking softie, but he can lower his guard more. He's gotten along with the Gallaghers, knows that they're the ones who see he gives a shit about their brother.

For the first time in his life, Mickey Milkovich actually wants to give a shit.


	16. Chapter 16

When Mickey returned to the hospital, the Gallagher's had already gone. It was late, though that never fucking bothered him, and he slipped into the hospital room the Army was gracious enough to pay for and closed the door quietly as if being too loud this time would wake someone up.

Ian was the only one in the room, but Mickey closed the curtains anyway to give him and Firecrotch privacy. The ex-con took a seat in the chair Fiona or Lip had already placed next to the bed, he could still feel the warmth of someone sitting in it previously.

Looking at Gallagher, Mickey didn't know how to feel. Shit, a part of him still really didn't _want_ to feel anything.

Ian was covered by the hospital blanket, a bunch of machines and shit hooked up into his arms and face. His flaming red hair was covered by a bandage, small cuts all over his face as if they were joining the army of freckles. Mickey noticed Ian's eyes moving behind his closed lids, giving the Milkovich slight relief knowing his Gallagher was at least dreaming.

And his mouth, still full and beautiful, yet chapped from all the exposure of desert sun. Mickey let it all sink in, his catching at the sight in front of him.

"Fuck, Gallagher…" Mickey felt relief again. This huge weight that he'd carried since finding out Firecrotch had been hurt had dropped.

But there was a rise of bile with his disgust and anger. The doctor had said there was a chance Gallagher would wake up, but he'd been careful enough to warn that he had a chance of being a fucking vegetable too. If the red head didn't fucking ever wake up, Mickey didn't know what he'd do.

Most likely swallow it all down with a bottle of vodka or whiskey and beat the shit out of anyone who came in his path.

At least, that's what the old Mickey Milkovich would have done.

No, now Mickey had become part of the big ass Gallagher family. Mandy was one thing, someone who'd barge in and force Mickey off his ass and shower every once in a while. But the Gallaghers had been ten times worse. Fiona would use Carl if he didn't get up fast enough, made him wear clean clothes, and shower ever fucking morning.

They had changed him. The old Mickey would have punched him in the face and laughed while calling him a faggot. And frankly, it'd be so easy to become that Mickey again. The one who didn't give a shit and refused to admit he actually loved this freckled red head.

But it was too late, and he was sure as fuck not giving up the chance to stay close to Ian Gallagher. Not this time.

"Jesus, Firecrotch. You made good on your word. Still alive and fuckin breathin." He muttered, pulling out a cigarette-because let's face it, Mickey Milkovich will never give a shit if there's a rule against it- and sparked up, taking a long drag before letting out a shaky breath of smoke. "You're not fuckin leavin me again. Just…Just open those big ass eyes of yours and give me that shit eating grin so I know you're doin okay."

Mickey stared at the unmoving boy lying in the bed. Nothing changed, no magical wake up or moving fingers like in those stupid fucking faggy romance movies Debbie watched.

He rubbed his bottom lip and took another drag, letting the smoke out through his nostrils as he grew impatient and nervous.

"Come on, Firecrotch, wake up."

When there was still no response, Mickey chewed his lip and scratched his knuckles against his head, then leaned forward.

"I bought an apartment. It's not too shitty, I promise, but I didn't buy no fucking huge expensive one either. It's for you and me, faggy as it is. And I actually went to school because Lip was an arrogant asshole about it."

The ex-con continued to stare at Ian's face, as if it would will him to wake the fuck up. He grew anxious, and frustrated.

"If you tell anyone this, I'll rip your fucking tongue out of our head and feed it to some stray dog. And I'll burn the letter so no one knows I told you already. But I fuckin missed you, all right? I couldn't get you out of my fucking head. You made me actually worry! And—And I actually found it in myself to accept the fucking fact that I'm in love with you an nothing can change it, you fucking asshole. So just wake the fuck up already!"

Mickey was starting to lose it. He couldn't take the quiet, or the sounds these damned machines made. Everything wanted out. He felt close to breaking down, being exactly what Mickey Milkovich wasn't.

"Gallagher, wake up. Please just…Wake the fuck up…"

He waited a minute.

"Gallagher."

And another, until finally he just whispered, "Ian, please wake up."

When even that got no response, Mickey leaned back in the seat with defeat. He rubbed his face and put out the cigarette, eyes trying to water. Mickey wouldn't let it happen.

Part of him wanted to leave, give up. That was the old part of him. Instead, Mickey stayed in the chair, watching Ian. And after a while, he rested his arms on the bed, then his head on top of them and fell asleep.

That night, Mickey dreamed that Ian woke up, that he hadn't been hurt. But then he also dreamed that Ian died from his body failing and never having woken up. Every dream that Mickey had that night was overdramatic and unrealistic, but what dreams weren't? That fear was bubbling over, the fear Mickey always tried to hide behind a mask.

One and a half years of being apart only to get Firecrotch back with a bump on the head and a coma as a result.

Mickey muttered his fears while he slept, and the nurse coming in to check on Ian overhearing. She was going to wake him up and send the Milkovich on his way, but stopped when she noticed Ian's hand holding onto his. With a smile, the nurse did her check, then left, closing the door behind her.

Even unconscious, Ian had heard it all. The apartment, the "I miss you", the shouting, and the "I love you" most of all.

He'd heard Mickey call him Ian for once. And damned if he hadn't tried to wake his own ass up after that. But it was like a heavy blanket over him, one that prevented him from speaking or moving. But it lifted just enough for him to find Mickey's hand and hold on tight.

This was the best part of being home.


	17. Chapter 17

Every day for the next month, everyone took turns with the unconscious Ian. No one spoke of any other decision than waiting for Ian to wake up. Fiona, who'd normally stress over the increasing cost, didn't think twice about it. They all knew that everyone would haul in every dime to see when Ian would open his eyes to the world again.

Mickey refused to leave his side except when the oldest Gallagher and Mandy would force him to go home for a shower. On several occasions, Lip and Mandy would drag the ex-con out of the hospital.

Mickey would spend his time in that same chair, eyes never leaving Gallagher's face. A cigarette would always be lit in his hand, his bottom lip beginning to become sensitive from how much the ex-con rubbed it.

While the others were there, Mickey remained silent, trying to make the red head somehow hear his voiceless pleas. Fiona always brought him food, then had Debbie make sure he'd actually eat it. Carl would slip him beer and talk about how Mickey would be proud at how badly he beat up some kid who'd tried to steal his lunch money.

All the ex-con could do was nod or chew the burgers down.

The TV was always on; Liam would flip through the channels when they were there.

But when they would all go home at the end of the day, leaving Mickey and Ian alone, the ex-con would finally spring to life.

He'd put the TV onto some action channel that played Segal, Van Daam, and Schwartzeneggar movies. Mickey would sit there leaning closer to Ian and talk. He had no fucking idea what he was saying, but shit always found its way out.

At this point, it wasn't like it mattered. Mickey just needed to get it out.

Anything, everything out.

He needed Firecrotch to know every detail of the last year and a half, needed to tell him about what Mickey'd been feeling every day.

Mickey needed to tell him over and over what it felt like to be afraid for his life and afraid for Ian's and Mandy's and even the other Gallagher's now. More and more spewed from him, like how red had always been his favorite color so maybe that was why he wanted Ian in the first place. Or how he loved Jell-O so much because when his mom was alive she'd always buy it when they couldn't afford much else.

The ex-con also told the red head how there were so many lies he wanted to take back, so many mistakes that part of him wished could be undone.

"You did realize I never fucking meant what I said about you being a warm mouth right?" He asked quietly one night. Mickey had smoked through the last of his carton, so now he just memorized the new scars engrained into the ginger's face.

Mickey always woke up to find Gallagher holding his hand, but he refused to let it happen at any point before he was asleep.

The ex-con rubbed his lip, hiding a wince at how it felt recently.

"I was fuckin scared, all right? I told you what would happen if my dad found out. I didn't want to risk it back then. I didn't want to feel like a bitch who listened to its master. I mean, Firecrotch, you know—"Mickey took a deep breath. "You know I'd fuckin do anything for you. I broke into that old guy's place and got shot in the fuckin ass for you. I let that perv touch my ass to get the bullets out!"

He knew there wouldn't be a response, like usual. But it never stopped Mickey from talking this whole time. He was tired of keeping it pent up. He was tired and exhausted and just flat out done with holding back right now. Not while all he could think about is Gallagher never waking up.

"If you'd ever just wake the fuck up, we could leave. Get the fuck out of South Side, out of this fucking city and state. We could go anywhere you wanted. Just not another country, though. I doubt I could get a fuckin passport unless I hired that old fuck from down the block to make a fake one."

Mickey stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth.

"I mean, road trip sounds fun and all, but I ain't leavin the country. Mandy needs to be able to make a forced drive out to our place. And Fiona needs to be able to bring Debs and Carl and Liam over. Speakin of which, Carl is fucking psychotic. I don't mind or nothin, but still. Sometimes it's fuckin scary."

Sighing, Mickey laid his head down against the bed like he'd routinely done. Closing his eyes, Mickey was about to drift when a sound made them immediately snap wide open.

"Van Day-um…" Ian whispered.

Mickey sat upright, staring at Ian. The red head's eyes slowly fluttered open, and a weak version of his grin spread.

"Shit, Gallagher. It's about time you opened your damn eyes." Mickey was sure the relief was all over his face. He didn't give a shit at the moment, though. Not when he got what he'd been wanting for months.

Ian made an attempt to sit up, but Mickey gently made him stay lying down.

"Well you wouldn't shut up, so I figured it was time to pay attention." He muttered with a small chuckle.

Mickey couldn't help himself but to grin and leap out of the seat, grabbing Ian's face and bringing their lips together. The kiss was soft and gentle, entirely unlike any normal Mickey Milkovich kiss. But this, Ian knew what this one was for. It was like saying "Thank you, I love you, I missed you" all in one go. Ian was obliged to kiss back.

"Don't you fucking leave me again, you hear?" Mickey growled.

"Now why would I want to do that?" Ian nipped the ex-con's lower lip, bringing out a small groan.

"To do a fucking stupid ass idea."

Ian held Mickey's face weakly, temporarily having a loss of strength from being unconscious for a while.

"It'd have to depend."

"On what?"

"On if you actually love me like you said."

Mickey pulled back and stared at the red head. "How many times to do I have to tell you not to say something so fuckin stupid?"

The ex-con gave Ian another kiss before whispering. "I fuckin love you. Happy Firecrotch?"

"Very." Ian replied, that shit eating grin appearing on his face.


	18. Chapter 18

The day Ian was well enough to be released from the hospital, everyone was fucking ecstatic. Gallagher had been stuck in there for another month while they made sure he wasn't going to drift into another coma, and then to make sure he was better. "Observation" was what the doctors said.

The Army had notified Fiona the week before that they'd be paying for all the hospital expenses, which relieved everyone. And everyone saw the look in her eyes now that she'd have a lot of extra money for a little bit.

Ian being awake didn't make Mickey stop staying all the time, but it definitely gave everyone an excuse to make him go home and shower more often. When they'd tried to make him leave one night to finally get some sleep in his own bed, Mickey just told them to fuck off and continued to stay by the redhead's side that night.

Now, he was watching Gallagher from the doorway as he packed up his things, finally out of that fucking hospital gown and in normal clothes. Well, normal as in his uniform since they were the only clothes he had with him at that current moment that fit him. Even then, the green shirt clung to Ian's muscles, making Mickey's dick twitch impatiently and desperately.

After eighteen months, Mickey could touch Ian-really touch him- and feel him there. He wanted to feel Ian's red hair knotted in his fingers, feel Ian's lips crushed against his again ready to be bitten, and most importantly wanted to feel Firecrotch's dick in his ass. Let's be honest, shoving his own fingers up there and jerking off wasn't even close to feeling as amazing as Ian.

As much as the others wanted to be there to bring Ian home, Fiona knew it could wait. Mickey and Ian needed their real alone time. So she told Mickey to bring him over to the house that evening for a "Welcome Home" party.

Ian shouldered his duffel bag and turned to face Mickey, a smile on his face.

"Where we off to first?"

Mickey pulled his attention away from his thoughts to the actual Gallagher standing in front of him. He pushed himself off the doorway, uncrossing his arms.

"Well, considering you've been served fuckin disgusting hospital shit excuse of food, I figured we'd just grab somethin at the IHOP down the block. Problem with that?" Mickey asked.

Ian shook his head, the smile widening. "No, sounds perfect. I need real food for once since I left."

Mickey smirked. "Aw, it's your first time having human food since you went off to fight in some bullshit "war". And it's with me? I'm fuckin honored, Firecrotch."

"Shut up, Mickey." Ian rolled his eyes.

Mickey barked out a laugh as he turned and walked. Once they reached the outside of the hospital, Ian stopped for a moment, eyes adjusting to the natural light of the outside he'd missed out on for two months. Gallagher also took that moment to look around at the home he's been long away from. His smile turned sad and fond, like he just woke up from some nightmare.

Considering where he had been, Mickey thought nightmare was a perfect term for it.

"You okay?" He asked Ian, who looked at him like he'd just remembered Mickey was there.

"Sorry, just…Nostalgic, I guess."

"Nostal….What?" Mickey furrowed his brows.

Ian chuckled. "I just missed seeing Chicago. I actually missed it. All my life I wanted out, but I've never been happier to be back."

"For the moment, everyone is fuckin happy to be in this shithole. Well, technically Lip and Mandy haven't been here thanks to him being at MIT most of the time." Mickey pulled out a cigarette and lit up, taking a nice calming drag. He offered the cigarette to Ian, who gladly took it and dragged from it like he hadn't had one in a long time.

"It's great they got things figured out." Ian said, breathing out the smoke.

"Most of us got things fuckin figured out, Gallagher."

"Do you?" Ian asked after a pause.

Mickey took another drag from the cigarette, letting the smoke blow out from his nose and started walking again.

"Yeah. I do."

Ian fell in step at Mickey's side like he'd done so many times before. The redhead had listened to everything Mickey had told him, and what everyone had written, but a part of him just never really believed his Mickey could do any of it. That Mickey could actually get along and merge with his family, or that he'd actually go to college. Or let Mandy make him dance at her wedding.

But then again, Mandy always had a strong grip. That he remembered well.

So…Did this mean Mickey was happy now? Was he happy being in South Side? Ian had always thought the ex-con wanted out. Maybe that changed the moment Mandy pulled the trigger on their father.

Which meant…Maybe there'd be a new outlook with their relationship?

"So what did you get figured out, then?" Ian asked as they were seated in some little booth in the back of IHOP. Mickey ordered himself a coffee and didn't bother with the sugar or cream, just went right to downing that first cup before filling it up for another. Ian ordered a soda, excited to have sugar again. After months of dehydrated food, he was ready to indulge.

"For starters, this shithole doesn't seem as fuckin bad now that my dad and brother's are out of my fuckin life." Mickey opened his mouth to continue, but then shut it and drank his coffee as the waitress came over. They ordered, and the ex-con remained quiet.

"What else?" Ian pressed. He had the feeling he was doing a bad job of hiding his nervousness and excitement all from the glare Mickey gave. Him.

The glare faded though, replaced by an expression Ian had never seen before. And the thing was, he knew exactly what the expression said. He noticed that Mickey had been much more relaxed now. He didn't spit at the Gallagher's like the redhead assumed he would, even made actual conversation. He didn't try to kill Lip, either.

"And I realized that I have people to fuckin stay here for that give a shit about me. And that college wasn't that bad. Well, community college, but still."

Ian laughed, Mickey scowling at first but then joining in.

"Is…Is that all?" Ian asked a little after their food came. It felt so good to be out like this in public with Mickey. No hiding or pretending to be acquaintances. No more being in fear that Terry Milkovich would see and kill them. Nothing was in their way.

Mickey didn't even bother to wait until his mouth wasn't full, because that's how classy he is.

"I realized I actually want us to fuckin live with each other instead of making bunches of energy wasting trips back and forth."

There it was. Exactly what Ian wanted to hear. Well, not exactly like that, but still. Slowly, he grinned.

"So it has nothing to do with the little fact you love me?" he teased.

"Don't act all sappy, Gallagher. It was a fuckin invitation to move in, not a proposal to get married or some shit." Mickey groaned.

Ian laughed. "Yeah, I'll live with you and your mess, Mick."

"Good. Because Lip and Mandy already moved your shit in."

"How do you know I wasn't going to just say no?" Ian stared.

"Because, Firecrotch, I am irresistible as fuck, and you've yet to say no to me before." Mickey burped and took another sip of his coffee, a smirk on his face at Ian's expression. The redhead threw at napkin at him.

"You're such a arrogant dick." Ian said.

"Aw, that's the sweetest fucking thing you've said. Careful, Gallagher, don't get all pussy on me yet." Mickey joked.

Ian couldn't help but roll his eyes and grin.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: So thank you once more for favoriting and following. It inspires me to keep writing. Sadly, this is the final chapter. Fucked Up will be updated soon, I promise, and I will be trying to write a couple once chapters. Inbox me any prompts or ideas and I will try to do them justice. So, please enjoy this ending, even though it's not very long.**

Ian was sitting on the couch, legs folded underneath him as he looked through the boxes of photos Mickey had taken since he had been deployed. Each one made the redhead smile, because he knew they all had a motive behind being taken. Mickey didn't just do things for no reason. He knew all too well.

When he got to the photos from Lip and Mandy's wedding, he'd gotten teary-eyed. It looked like everyone had been so happy, and he'd missed out completely on it. He even missed out on Mickey actually dancing.

"I figure we could just watch that Expendables 2. So many badass motherfuckers in that movie, the epic standard if fuckin high." Mickey came out of the kitchen with two plates of food and set them down on the coffee table before sitting next to Ian on the couch.

"Mickey, what the fuck is that supposed to be?" Ian stared down at the plates. He couldn't even begin to try identifying what the food was.

Mickey rubbed his bottom lip and shrugged.

"Spaghetti."

"Okay, stick to pizza bagels. You can't cook for shit." Ian took the plates and carried them back to the kitchen where he tossed them into the trash before coming back out.

Mickey scowled. "You make the fuckin food then."

Ian simply went to a drawer and pulled out a menu for takeout. The ex-con huffed and took a sip from his beer as he watched the redhead pick up the phone to dial.

"Don't let them fuckin forget my kung pao chicken this time." Mickey put in the movie and was kind enough to keep the volume at a level Ian could talk over.

Ian couldn't help but have that grin on his face. He joined Mickey on the couch when he was done ordering, then presumed to lie down along the couch, his head resting in the older boy's lap. Mickey stared down at him.

"What are you, a fuckin lap dog? The ex-con smirked.

"Says the bottom." Ian remarked. Mickey gently shoved his face.

"Fuck off."

Ian sat up and straddled Mickey's lap. He knotted his hands into Mickey's dark hair and forced the older boy to look up at him as he gave him a kiss. Instead of Mickey shoving or fighting him away like he had in the beginning of their kissing adventures, the ex-con moved to place his hands on Ian's hips, gripping them.

The two boys stayed that way for a while, tongues and teeth fighting for dominance over the other until Mickey won out, making Gallagher's lip bleed and coercing a moan from him by rubbing their tongues together. Finally, they pulled back, short of breath, both smiling.

"That wasn't what I meant…" Mickey mumbled, voice low and gravely from his arousal, making Ian's smile turn into a smirk.

"Do you want me to stop then?" he asked, his voice thick from the matching state of arousal. Ian's hands moved to Mickey's belt, already slowly unbuckling it. The grip on his hips tightened.

"You and your stupid fucking questions, Firecrotch." Mickey growled.

Ian couldn't hide his grin any other way than to bring his lips back to the ex-con's.

Mickey didn't do a lot of things. Mickey didn't do school, didn't get attached, didn't care about anyone but himself. Mickey fought whoever he wanted. And Mickey sure as hell didn't say "I miss you".

Mickey Milkovich broke all his rules. Including the biggest rule of all.

Mickey with every fiber of his being loved Ian Gallagher.


End file.
